Diets…. Who the hell came up with this concept? I really hate diets. The only thing I hate more than diets is my doctor (again, sorry Erik…nothing personal I swear). Here is a little history:
About three years ago, when Kate and I actually started to generate an income, Kate insisted that I get a big life insurance policy. While I was quite sure she was planning to have me eliminated, I too thought it was a good idea to make sure that my children did not have to rely on Kate’s future new boyfriend for financial support. I contacted the insurance agency and they sent out a mobile nurse (a male nurse no less) to my office to poke my finger, weigh me, and perform other more offensive and degrading tests.
At the time, my office was in the atrium, which was a large room decorated like the African safari with taxidermied animals everywhere (I am pretty sure Taxidermied is not a word, but neither is strategery, and I use that regularly). As you entered the atrium there was a giraffe to your left, a tree with a leopard in the middle of the room, a couple of lions and a zebra in the back, and of course, a pack of hyenas in front of my door (the owner thought that was so funny….I laughed too because I really needed the paycheck….) There were offices around the perimeter. The walls to the offices were made of glass and I often felt that I was the zoo, with the stuffed animals, other offices, and visitors staring in at me. Hmm… that reminds me of another story…..
Because of the unique layout of our offices, and the amount of animals on display, tours were given to the public once a week. We even employed a man from South Africa who gave the tours and explained the animals in great detail. I would literally be on the phone or typing away and look up to see a parade of Japanese tourists peering in at me like I was the new panda cub at the Las Vegas Zoo. One day I looked up just as a man was snapping a picture of me. The flash off of the glass blinded me for a moment. As I was sitting there, trying to get my eyes to refocus, I audibly wondered what in the *&$% he saw in my office that was worth snapping a %&#@$%^ picture! I was so mad I stormed through the double doors (painted like a large and majestic tree) into the owner’s office. I was going to tell him how ridiculous this whole office was. Upon seeing his face I remembered how bad I needed a paycheck. It just wasn’t worth messing with the man….ok back to the story….
As Mr. Nurse was poking and prodding I could see my colleagues starring in. To top it off he couldn’t find my vein, and after 6 failed attempts I pleaded with him to try the other arm. Finally, he succeeded and was off, leaving me with two bruised arms, and strong feelings of humiliation. Little did I know this was just the beginning.
One week later I received a call from my agent stating that they could not insure me because of “medical conditions”. What in the hell could be the problem, I wondered? I am a 28 year old energetic (slightly pudgy) Caucasian male. I wanted answers!
I was informed that the results could be released to my doctor. I did not have one, so I took the advice of the owner (yes, the one that put Hyenas outside my office!) and set an appointment with his doctor.
Doctors make me nervous (see previous story on ears) so I just don’t go. My last visit was for a physical before my mission. Hmmmm, few years back. I was extremely nervous but made it to his office anyway. I could tell we were going to have issues from the moment I saw him. He was spindly, sickly looking man with milky -never seen a day of sun- skin and a disturbing child molester like goatee. He was sarcastic and loud….(did I just describe [unnamed fellow law school classmate]?????) well…like that.
He opened his charts and read the report from Mr. Nurses visit to my office. The report showed a fatty liver. I asked, “What in the hell is fatty liver?” He told me it was a condition of fat people. I asked, “How you get”….tried to stop mid-sentence but too late… and he replied, "by being fat." He examined me, asked a few questions, and then pronounced, “The problem is that you are fat.” “Hmm” I said, “Very observant!”…….. He put me on the scales, called a nurse over to verify, and then gasped as he wrote down the weight. He commented that I had gained a lot of weight since my physical report of 9 years ago. At this point I was ready to swing. I asked him how we were going to fix the fatty liver so that my wife could get additional insurance on me so that I could be killed at any time. He told me I was going to lose weight. I asked what was the best way. He responded to eat less and exercise more. I asked him if I really had to pay for the consultation. He smiled and told me it was an exam… much more pricey. I grumbled out of the office.
I am not sure why, but I almost liked the little twerp. He told me to lose 20 lbs in six months before my next appointment. I was determined to show him. I made a trip to the health food store and stocked my work fridge with fresh fruit and vegetables. I was motivated… until a friend invited me to lunch. Three weeks later my secretary cleaned out the rotten produce from my fridge. I canceled my six month appointment, and then the yearly. Time really flew by. I gained an average of 12 lbs a year (one lb a month is good right??) over the next three years. Six months ago my doctor called and stated that if I didn’t schedule an appointment he was going to cancel me as a client. I asked, “Are you threatening to fire me?” Damn right, he responded. I asked if he could really do that. He said, “Watch me”. I kinda like that guy (who is no longer my doctor…..)
My wife has pleaded with me to stop the “growth” as I refer to my ever changing figure. She has made promises (a new motorbike, hunting trip, other unmentionables…) if I would lose the weight. After trying somewhat with diets I just bought the motorbike and scheduled the hunting trip. It was easier. Last month she told me that when we were married she didn’t marry two of me and she was taking a stand!! Blah blah blah…, pass the Twinkies and a Pepsi.
Three weeks ago it all came to a head in Prescott, Arizona. Yes, I said Prescott. We had gone down to see some good friends and to hang out in their 6,500 square foot mansion in the foothills. We were companions on our mission and later in life have become business partners. I thought our business ventures were struggling somewhat, but now I had real questions (hmm… future email update material here…)
Shortly after arriving my friend (well, former friend) brought in three large boxes of nutri-system food and began to explain that this was the diet that Dan Marino was on, and he had tried it and lost 25 lbs, but couldn’t do it anymore because some other excuse so he wanted to give me two months of food for free to try. Hmmmmm…….. I was immediately suspicious. I asked why he had two months worth on hand. My wife looked nervous. I could smell a set up! KATE HAD TRICKED ME INTO A WEEKEND AT A MAKESHIFT FAT CAMP!!! The whole weekend it was, Sean, the food is great!.. I wad never hungry… you can do this… blah blah blah. I just wanted a Twinkie.
After 48 hours of torture I relented to giving the diet a try. I told him (and his wife and my wife who had been transformed into a makeshift cheerleading squad) that I would do it but would only take the food if I could pay for it. He said, no, taken care of. I argued that the food is $400 a month and that I wouldn’t just take it. That is when I caught him looking at my wife and both trying to play it cool. It was obvious that this had been already discussed and that it was very likely that I already owned the damn stuff. Damnit I screamed! I already bought this stuff didn’t I? Neither would admit. I will find a receipt sooner or later.
I was bitter all the way home, like drug addict after an intervention. However, Monday morning I gave it a try. I don’t know if you have ever seen the food, but it is revolting. There is no way in hell Dan Marino ate this crap. Breakfast was an orange, a spoonful of oatmeal with protein added, a liter of water, and a fat free yogurt. Lunch was some small cup of nothing and a big salad. Dinner was a slice of lasagna that looked as if it was prepared by the staff at GNC. I was so hungry I could feel my large intestine eating my small intestine! Near death, I struggled to my room hoping to dye peacefully in my sleep. It was the most miserable day of my life. Kate followed me upstairs wondering if I was going to work out. Work out, I screamed, I don’t even have energy to brush my teeth!
The next day I decided that, if I had to do this anyway, I might as well make some money. I organized two biggest loser contests, one at each office, with $20.00 entrance fees. I conveniently failed to mention that I was on the fat camp diet. The pot is up to $1,000.00! Suddenly, I have gained strength. Money is a powerful thing.
To be continued….
